


Black Cat

by disillusionist9



Series: Choose Dare [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, POV Pansy Parkinson, Post-War, Potions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 09:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7929490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disillusionist9/pseuds/disillusionist9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble #12 of 100, within the "Find Your Roots" universe | Pansy returned to Hogwarts to finish her disastrous final year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Cat

Returning to attempt her final year of Hogwarts again might have been one of the stupidest things Pansy Parkinson had ever done. Well, except for that one time she suggesting turning the Savior of the Wizarding World over to Voldemort. That was not a highlight.

Her train compartment was empty the entire ride to Hogwarts and there was an empty chair on either side of her for every meal and class except Potions. Longbottom was stuck next to her after coming in late on the first day. Something about helping Sprout with the Tentaculas.

Pansy was not the only returning seventh year student who hadn't quite gotten the education she'd desired in the 1997-1998 school year, but she was the only Slytherin. Handfuls of Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and Ravenclaws were in her classes. The teachers generally lumped her in with the true seventh year Slytherins, which she did not mind at all. They understood why she came back and didn't treat her like a black cat walking across their path, as if she were cursed. Maybe she was cursed.

The weeks moved like a pendulum; some days sped by in a blur while others stayed suspended in the air just waiting to drop. Potions always slowed down the clock. It took so much concentration to steadily cut roots into equal portions without bumping elbows with your brewing partner. Some days she swore the tables in the lab had shrunken instead of acknowledging that the students had simply grown up into long armed and legged adults.

Halloween raced up to meet them like the fall of the pendulum. Pansy wouldn't have known it was Halloween if they didn't start brewing obscenely colored potions with Slughorn to decorate the Great Hall with at dinner. Her class was ahead of the curriculum as they were all returning students so cauldrons of Babbling Brews brighter green than could ever be natural and nausea remedies glowing an orange color a shade brighter than a pumpkin rinds covered the tables. It was all rather gauche in her opinion. Not that anyone would ask it of her.

"Wait, stop. Use the silver knife, not the steel."

When his lab partner continued to move her hand toward the steel instead of silver he reached out and grasped her wrist. Pansy stiffened and twisted her wrist with her fingers pulled together tightly so her hand slipped through his easily. With one step she put another three feet of open air between their bodies. The knee jerk reaction was instant, obviously something practiced or forged from necessity, and that made his heart heavy.

"Sorry," Neville muttered, turning back towards their purple-filled cauldron. "The steel will contaminate those roots."

Pansy blinked owlishly at him, absentmindedly rubbing her wrist where his bare skin had touched hers.

"Thanks," she croaked out finally. "I...I didn't hear you. People don't really talk to me."

Neville glanced at her through his lashes as he stirred, counting under his breath. The rest of the class passed in silence, but it felt lighter than it had since she'd returned to Hogwarts. Every Potions class after Halloween, Neville waited to walk out of the classroom with her and made a point to make conversation with her in front of whomever was in the hallway. Pansy even caught herself smiling once. Maybe she wasn't cursed after all.


End file.
